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Writing this story might bring back memories that, well, I don't really want to remember. but somehow, I feel the need to get this off my chest. I've never told a soul, but as I'm laying here in bed, pondering, the memory gets even more vivid. Stronger. As a child, I never believed in ghosts, monsters, or any other supernatural being. My father would always convince me that it was my imagination. "Now son, if there was a monster, don't you think he would have slaughtered you by now?" I always thought of that whenever I got frightened by something unexplainable. Although, now, as I'm older, albeit rather immature, I've pretty much figured out that these... *things* like to toy with you. They get their kicks out of seeing you suffer. What's worse than living in your own fear, not knowing what could happen next? Nothing. And, unfortunately, these beings understand this. Trust me, they can kill you if they wanted to. Not even. A normal human cannot even begin to describe. I have, unfortunately, witnessed first-hand the power these things possess. "Hey, yo, get the fuck up," my older brother, who spoke only pure and enchanting words, screamed. I've always been a heavy sleeper, and so during my first year at fifth grade, my family and I realized that alarm clocks would do nothing but annoy me. My parents volunteered my brother to wake me up, even though he pleaded with them. From then on then, my brother always woke me up, and boy, was he *loud*. However, one time, the day before Summer vacation, I woke up on my own. I got on my laptop, and began to surf the internet, looking for some online games to play. My room is very close to the neighbors house, almost too close for comfort. If the environment is quiet enough, you can hear exactly what the neighbors are doing. My brother would always call me a "peeping Tom" everytime I leaned my ear against the wall. I couldn't help it, it was fun hearing exactly what the neighbors were doing. This morning was different, however. A couple days ago, the old neighbors moved out. My dad was very close friends with the man of that house, Todd, so he was pretty much crushed when they moved. My dad tried to speak with him, and told me what had happened. "Todd, what's the matter, how come you're moving?" Silence. My dad described his face as pale, almost as if the blood from his body was getting drained out of him. Todd eventually ignored my dad, quickly took his family and drove off, with a strong look of fear on his face. However, new neighbors quickly moved in the day after, almost as if they were anticipating Todd and his family moving out. I always joked around, saying that they had been stalking Todd, and as soon as they moved out, they stole the house. My mother gathered everyone, and told us that we should be nice to the new neighbors, and maybe send them a few housewarming gifts. My dad quickly declined the offer, and my brother followed. I knew my mom meant well, but I agreed, saying that maybe we should wait a little longer until they settle in. Of course, my mother did not listen. She picked up a large basket, and began putting in plants and refreshments in it. Suddenly, the most unusual knock was heard on our front door. It almost sounded as if someone was dying slowly, and using their last moments to knock on our door. It was almost painful to hear. I counted, and there were about four knocks, and I clearly remember there being a ten second pause between each one. It's as if the person knocking wanted us to vividly remember each knock, pausing for a few seconds so the chilling noises would settle in our minds. My mother put down her basket, spilling some contents in the process. When she opened the door, a strange man was at the foot of the door, smiling widely. He seemed to be of hispanic descent, having a rough spanish accent when speaking. "Hello, you must be the new neighbors," my mother greeted with a charming smile. The man slowly responded to her, but not before widening his grin. "Correct." "Would you like to come inside?" My father asked with a cringe, obviously trying to warm up to the new neighbors, but failing. "No." The man stood there, for at least a good four minutes, until my brother spoke up. "Are you just gonna stand there?" No response. The man finally left after two more minutes, slowly walking back to his house. The scariest part of all that was that he never lost his smile. He just kept smiling. To this day, the smile haunts me. As I was saying before, that Summer day, my house was oddly quiet. There's never really a dull moment, what with my dad watching sports at maximum volume, my mother burning something and shouting at the top of her lungs, and my brother and I shouting and chasing eachother, it was strange to see everyone sleeping. It's as if all the madness that occurs at my house abruptly died down. Of course my house is quiet at times, but that's really rare. Then it hit me. This would be the perfect time to go snoop on the neighbors. Usually, I put my ear on the wall and listen to what they're saying, but that's because everyone is fully awake and I can't do much. However, I was feeling really brave at the time, and so I decided that I could do much more, and no one would ever have to know. -- for a scary story site, entirely fictional more to come